


Cruel to be kind

by anna_sun



Series: Like Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Cheating, Humor, M/M, Masochism, Modern AU, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Skype Sex, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 07:45:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6695965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anna_sun/pseuds/anna_sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>''Hamilton,'' Thomas says his name, voice smooth and velvety, a smirk dressing his lips. He doesn't know how that's possible, but his jaw looks even more defined than the last time he saw him. ''What do you want?'' </p><p>Alex reflexively licks his lips, looks away, blush creeping up his neck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cruel to be kind

**Author's Note:**

> This work is not understandable on its own. Please, read part one, [Like Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6676711), before getting into this mess.
> 
> Also, DISCLAIMER. This is far, far away from the portrayal of an healthy relationship. I am aware, and the reader should be too. Please keep that in mind. Alexander doesn't know what the fuck he's doing.

Alex finds himself standing on the old, sad looking lawn chair of his balcony, the one Eliza had brought from home when she saw they actually _had_ a balcony. The thing's creaking at every movement he makes, like its complaining, and every few seconds Alexander has a fright he'll fall off the chair and crack his skull open on the pavement 35 feet below.

It would make for a nice story.

 _Grown man falls to his death from his balcony because he was stealing his neighbor's Wifi._   

He's not even doing anything important, just scrolling through social media and checking out the news, which the little bar of connection he's managed to get from his position can barely keep up with. It would definitely not be worth dying for. 

It's after a couple more minutes, maybe fifteen, that he decides to give up. His arm's tired, his neck's sore from looking up too long and his legs are begging for him to sit down. His patience has also grown very, very thin. Slow internet is better than no internet but it is very frustrating. 

He takes a moment to appreciate the view of his city from that point, the slight fog that has settled over it today, still standing on the chair, when the door slides open and Eliza joins him on the balcony. 

Alex slightly turns his body around, wants to smile and say _Hi, how was work today_ , but stops himself when he notices she looks terrified, the faint wind from outside pulling a couple of strays of hair away from her ponytail. She doesn't bother pushing them away, just looks at Alex like he's an unknown creature and stares, stares, stares, mouth wide open. A few hairs find their way into her mouth and oh, he knows that's annoying.

''Alexander,'' she manages, stretches her arm in front of her and offers him her hand. ''Please... I love you.''

Alex's brows furrow on their own in confusion at the words, and it's a second too late before he realizes, looks at himself and the street below, and oh. _Oh_.   

He quickly lowers himself to the safety of the balcony, takes her hand and lets her pull him inside. She's shaking. 

''Eliza, Eliza,'' He blurs out, grabbing her by the shoulders. ''Everything's fine. I was stealing Miss. Conahan's wifi, Jesus. The only way was to stand up on that chair.'' 

Her eyes frantically look into his own, searching for a hint of a lie. He slowly nods, 

''Everything's fine.'' He repeats, lets her hug him when she finally believes this was just a very, very bad misunderstanding. ''Jesus Christ.'' He feels like he needs to say. 

''Jesus Christ,'' She echoes, steps away and looks into his eyes the way she does when she says something important and really wants him to listen. He can't pull his gaze away when she does that. ''Don't you ever fucking scare me like that again, Hamilton. Fuck.'' 

He knows how he looks. Hair greasy, sticking to his forehead with the heat, shirt he hasn't changed in weeks, oldest pair of sweatpants he owns on. He hasn't looked that bad since the end of college, and that was a rough patch he had pulled everybody he loved through with him. That couldn't happen again. That wouldn't happen again. 

''Hey, I won't.'' He smiles and it's only when she smiles back that he feels a weight pulled off his shoulders. ''Anyways, what do you want for dinner?'' 

They decide on pasta, because it's the only thing they know for sure hasn't rotten bad, and after an hour of Netflix from Laf's account and a bit of arm wrestling (Eliza wins), the accident's practically forgotten. 

''You were stealing the fucking wifi,'' She can laugh about it now, right as someone starts beating the shit out of someone else on the screen. 

Alex laughs too because yeah, that fact is kind of embarrassing.

''I know we had to pick between Wifi and AC, and that AC felt way more important in this hot hell of a state, but Jesus, I'm starting to regret that decision.'' 

''I can't imagine how boring it must get in here without Wifi,'' she says, and knowing Eliza it holds nothing behind it, but Alexander still feels the guilt crashing down on him. 

''It is, and I'm sorry, I'm going to find a job real soon. Get out of here, bring money home. John says he can _'feel it'_  . And I think I believe him.'' 

She cuddles closer to him, heavy head resting on his shoulder, 

''Yeah, you have to.'' She sighs and looks at him like she's afraid he might hide away, like her words could set a bomb off. She's careful when she adds, ''Say yes to anything. I love you, but I've been working double shifts all summer long. I'm pretty sure I've lost my weight in sweat.''

So he does. He says yes to anything. Weird ads and crappy short films meant for Youtube, anything his agent brings to him he does. It's better than to sulk alone at home, it's better than barely having the money to feed the both of them, so whatever, it doesn't matter if Hercules calls him at random hours and tells him he just saw him on Tv promoting a weird cleaning product. It doesn't matter that he lost every ounce of pride he once had for his work. Still, the reward is nothing like the steady paycheck he'd taken for granted with The Normal Heart.

The world's raw and Hollywood is not the dream he thought it would be. France probably is, though.

-

He doesn't call John often but when he does it's because it's important.

''Hi, baby,'' John's voice is still pretty through the shitty speakers, even if it's concerned, even when it's cracked and almost shivery-like because of the bad quality of the call. His face still looks soft, no matter how many pixels can be noticed making the shape of it. Skype is shit but John just, blasts through it. ''Everything good?''

Alex won't tell but he's already got a hand on his crotch, right below the desk, and John's a two hour drive away, at his folks's. He'd almost begged him to come with, to no avail. Alex was far from ready to meet the parents. 

He nods, 

''Yeah, John, I'm good.'' He doesn't know if the other man notices the blush on his cheeks, his heavy breathing, the tiny, almost impossible to catch movement of his right arm. He's not doing anything serious yet, just palming. Relieving some of the pressure. ''Will you please, god,'' 

He's embarrassed.

''Are you alone?'' He tries instead, seeing exactly the change in John's eyes when he realizes. John is a smart man.

''Alex, are you...? Oh my god.''

At first, Alex thinks the reaction is caused by arousal, and he wants to smile, but it's fast when he eventually associates John's expression with confusion. John looks weirded out, almost a little scared. 

Alex stops moving immediately. His dick complains, but Alex ignores it, looks at the ceiling, the wall, anywhere but John. 

''Sorry, that was, huh...'' _Fuck._  ''That was stupid of me. Too much too soon?''

John laughs a bit, and that's somewhat relieving. Alex stops feeling like he just traumatized a child.

''No, well, yeah maybe, I don't know. I don't think that's really my type of thing.'' He smiles, seems to be touching his own laptop's screen, touching the pixel version of Alex's face. ''Plus, I'm still at my parent's. Really not the time. But it's fine. It's cool. I'll call you back later. Right now I'll just...''

There's silence before John blurs out,

''I'll let you do your thing.''

Alex hides his face into the safety of the creek of his elbow, half yells '' _Oh my god_ '' before John blows a kiss at the screen and ends the call. 

Well, that had to be the most embarrassing thing he'd ever done. 

 _He's too sweet_ , the voice in his head screams. _Too sweet and too good, lovable and innocent, and if something as silly as Skype sex isn't his thing, how can you ever ask anything more of him?_

He shakes his head, grabs his hair. John was about way more than sex. 

He dives into writing, knows he can blur out at least a thousand more words and calm his sex drive a bit. It's going well, really well actually, until he hits a blank spot in his brain and he gets bored again. 

He debates on looking up porn, because that sure did the trick for most of his teenage years, and yeah, it's kind of pathetic, but whatever. He's alone and it's not like it's something he should be ashamed of. His boyfriend is hours away, he has needs, and Jefferson's a freaking ocean away-

He blinks. Does just that for a while, tries to shove his own thoughts into denial. This was so bad, so fucking bad. 

He still double clicks on the camera icon when a little green check appears next to Thomas's profile picture. 

-

''Hamilton,'' Thomas says his name, voice smooth and velvety, a smirk dressing his lips. He doesn't know how that's possible, but his jaw looks even more defined than the last time he saw him. ''What do you want?'' 

Alex reflexively licks his lips, looks away, blush creeping up his neck. He's embarrassed to admit it, that he's _needy_ , knows that Jefferson will never let him live it down, and it makes heat rush in between his legs.   

He doesn't even need to say anything, the silence tells Thomas everything he needs to know. He shifts his face closer to the screen, rests his head on the open palm of his hand. The gesture is small but so arrogant, so full of itself, Alex wants to punch his laptop. 

''Ah,'' It feels like he's making a statement, like he already figured it out, but doesn't want to give the secret away. ''Tell me, Alexander.'' 

''You know damn well,'' He says, maybe because it's fun to play a bit, to have the conversation last more than three minutes. He still unzips his jeans off camera, tries not to have the upper part of his arm move. ''Why would I call you if not for-'' 

''If not for you wanting me.'' 

He laughs, almost slaps the laptop screen shut. 

''Fuck you, I don't want you.'' He spits. ''Your dick's nice, that's it.'' And while that would have made guys like John feel like less than shit, Jefferson fucking brightens up. 

''Aw, thanks.'' 

Alexander digs his fingers into the meat of his thighs. He's starting to get impatient, and more pissed off than turned on. Maybe this wasn't even worth it. The whole thing just proved to Thomas how weak he actually was. 

He's about to retreat, call this whole night a fucking misery, when Thomas asks, 

''You wearing jeans?'' 

He nods, slowly, and Skype lags for a second but it's back to bearable soon enough. 

''Unzip them.''

''Already did,'' he says before he can stop himself, and of course, Thomas' shocked expression doesn't last long.  

''So eager for it, huh? Bet you would have taken your cock out already if I wouldn't have been able to see it.'' And fuck, he would have. 

''It's kind of small. Your dick, I mean. You know, I've definitely seen better.'' Thomas comments like it's necessary, and Alex wants to _cry_. Hates how the insult makes his hand twitch on his thigh. ''But God, it's so fun to watch it bounce when I'm fucking you.''

There's a pause, and Alex doesn't know exactly what he's waiting for until,

''Touch yourself. Slowly.''  

Alex doesn't need to be told twice. 

''Lower the screen.''

He does.  

''Remember that first time you spread your legs for me and meant it, when I finally fucked an orgasm out of you.'' A flow of words suddenly fall from Thomas's lips, and it's the best thing Alexander's ever heard. He's not whispering but not really talking as loud as he should, either. It's like an in between space of just right. Alex feels enveloped in it. ''We were in Austin's bed, far from comfortable, and you just... pulled a little bottle out of your jeans pocket. Just like that. My name could have been carved on it so much it was obvious, Jesus. You'd been carrying it around with you, hadn't you?''  

His hand starts moving faster when he recalls that night, how good it had felt, how worthy of the wait, and it burns a bit, so he slows down. He wishes he could lick his palm, but he doesn't know if he can, what Thomas would do if he stopped the movement for even one second. 

''Good boy,'' Thomas says, like he can see through the screen and into Alex's brain. 

''Do you have lotion nearby? Lube? I can be nice.'' Thomas says, thoughtful, smile audible. ''Want me to be nice?'' 

Alex shakes his head, groans, because _fuck no, no, don't be nice_. 

''Thought not.'' 

Alex's breath comes in short, little gasps, in between swears. 

''Lick your hand at least, man. Spit. Go faster.''

Alex does, gets everything as wet as possible, and there's no more slight irritation, so he does go faster. It's nice, it's good, better than any porn he could have found. 

''There's a lot of great ladies in Paris, you know.'' That's pretty random, and Alex lifts his gaze to look at him. He sees himself on the corner of the screen when he does, the bottom of his belly, hard dick in his hand, and he moans. Jefferson ignores it completely. ''You like girls, Alexander?''   

Alex nods, mutters a _Mhm, yeah, I do_ , can barely recognize his voice, and Jefferson smiles like the whole world has finally opened up to him. The kind of evil grin a villain would wear in a Disney movie.  

''I fucked a lot of them,'' Jefferson says, and fuck, Alex's hips buck up. ''None of them were as tight as your ass, I'll admit, but God, those _tits_.'' He puts emphasis on the last word, looks up like he's recalling it all in his head. Like he's not really talking to get Alexander off, just to talk, just to brag. It works though, Alex can see it, Jefferson fucking all those french girls, bringing beautiful sounds out of them, some they didn't even know they could make. 

''I bet you wish you were one of them. In Paris, with me, yeah. I would leave you in my room all day, just go to work, and you would stay there. Cause you know how to be good for me, Alexander, fuck, you really do. I'd come back late, so late, and you'd be mad, but fuck, you'd let me fuck your mouth anyways, wouldn't you?'' 

Alexander breaks. 

''Fuck you, with your fucking career and your fucking, fuck, voice,'' He's rambling, not making any sense, getting closer by the second. ''I hate, I really do, I _hate_ you, you fucking prick, think you're the center of the, the whole world, don't you, you fucking hot piece of-''

And then he's coming, hard, all over himself, and it's too much and he moans out Jefferson's name before he can stop himself. 

There's a second or two of only Alexander's breathing filling the silence before Thomas says, 

''I'm coming back to the US in a couple months,'' like a promise. 

And ends the call. 

-

John calls him back later that night, all tucked in, soft and ready to go to sleep, and Alex just pretends. He pretends there are butterflies in his belly when John smiles, pretends his heart is beating out of his chest when John calls him beautiful, pretends he didn't come with another man's name on his lips earlier that same night. He doesn't really register the words that leave his mouth, especially not when he says ''I love you too''. 

He just pretends.

-

Things can change fast, Alex learns. Like the earth rotates on its axis one day and suddenly decides to change course the next, spins the other way around, shaking the world everybody has gotten to know with it. 

That's how it feels like, when his agent calls him on Saturday morning (too early, Alex is still in bed, grumpy and voice grainy), tells him there's a new series looking for a lead that she thinks he would be perfect for. There's always new series looking for leads in Hollywood. So, it's a long shot, the kind that feels like it's miles away ahead of him, but he still says Okay, next Sunday, at 3, I'll be there. 

She emails him the parts, some script snippets, and Alex's smiling through the whole thing. It's funny, well written, actually interesting. The first piece he actually _wants_ to be a part of in a while, instead of just the need for money pushing him to read the next line. He actually wants to read more, when he's done with what was given to him. 

He doesn't audition for the main character, partly because it's meant to be a teenage girl, though Laf looks disappointed when he firmly tells him _No, I am definitely not auditioning to be a teenager girl_.

But he does audition for her literature teacher. The part is nice, the character seems boring at first, but it manages to spark interest when, after class, he gets an important call from Someone That Seems Very Dangerous. Alex himself doesn't know what the whole deal is, but he reads and re reads its scene over and over again, just to be sure he gets the essence of the character. Or whatever.  

It all proves to be worth it when he gets a call back. And another. And finally, when one woman says, 

''Congrats. We're pretty sure you're the one, Sir. You can go and arrange the details of your contract with Mister Williams. We're starting the shoot in June.'' 

He calls Eliza immediately, then John, before happily telling the good news to Lafayette and Hercules, and they're all so happy for him it makes his heart swell. Hercules is mostly happy Eliza won't need to work as much as she did anymore, but still.

Everything's finally starting to be good.

''We must celebrate,'' Eliza says after she's thrown herself in his arms. That's probably what freedom is like, to her. ''We invite everybody. We get drunk. It's the only way.''

''I think you're happier for yourself than for me,'' He jokes, and she laughs, says _Probably, yeah_ , before hurrying him to get ready. She's got everybody on the phone in less than five minutes. Even calls her sisters to share the good news, even though neither of them can make it, because Angelica is in goddamn London and Peggy's in New York, still with their father. 

This is good. At least it'll occupy him for most of his days. He still brushes John off when he insists it might be his big break, though. 

-

''As the only remaining single person of our crew,'' Lafayette says, yelling like he always does when he's drunk and shushing everybody when they all start to laugh at 'crew', ''I declare myself official leader.'' 

The four of them break into laughter at that, Laf faking offence and muttering in french under his breath, before Hercules lands an heavy arm around his shoulders and says,

''My friend, you cannot declare yourself official leader of anything. Besides, do you really want all the responsibility of handling us? Alexander's far better at being the mom.''  

Alex yells 'Hey!', or something that he thinks sounds like it. He might be a little drunk.

''Babe, it's fine, I love you as the mom.'' John tries to whisper in his ear, ends up talking pretty loudly on his cheek. Alex giggles. John's lips, strangely, tickle.

''Ew,'' Eliza blurs out, sat on the floor. She's nursing her drink, a rum and coke, same as Alex. ''That's gross. Don't call him mom when we're around.''   

She starts laughing then, her face still adorably scrunched up in disgust when she adds, 

''It's like when you guys have those Skype sex sessions. Like, first couple times were fine, I can understand, but _Jesus_. John, sweetheart, can you maybe calm down a bit? For the sake of my ears.''  

Alex stops breathing. 

Lafayette's laughing, practically screaming his lungs off that he _did not need to know that_ , and Hercules' reaction is pretty much just spitting his drink out. They're all so clueless, Eliza deciding the floor is comfortable enough to lay down on before she changes the subject, talks to Lafayette about the asshole that didn't tip anything Friday night. It's all happening around him, nobody aware, like a movie on fast forward Alex can't catch up with. He's stuck in his mind, on pause. 

And John is... he's tense. Whole body frozen where it touches him, Alex can almost feel the pain radiating through to him. It's all Alexander concentrates on, their meeting point, because he doesn't dare look over at him and see his face.

''John-'' He says, stops, tries to breathe again.

The mention of his name is enough for John to snap out of his frozen state. He gets off the couch, glass tight in his grip by the way his knuckles turn white, and he walks to the kitchen. Alex follows, feels like his feet are melting on the ground with every step.

John supports the upper part of his body by pressing his open palms on the kitchen counter, eyes closed, breathing heavily. Alex has no fucking idea what to do, or what to say.

''How-'' John suddenly tries to say, stops. ''What did she mean?''

 _She meant I cheated on you. She meant I'm a disaster._  

''John, fuck, I'm... I didn't mean for this...'' The sentence dies in his mouth, and he knows there's nothing he can say, nothing he can do. He can just stand silently and watch John fall apart. 

''How could you... I don't... Please, God, just... tell me this isn't real. Alex, tell me... Did you really...'' John swallows. ''Cheat? Did you really cheat?'' He sounds so small, and Alex has never wanted to hug him more than he does now. 

He closes his eyes, shakes his head yes, dizzy with it, repeats John's name after the confession over and over again like it'll somehow make things better. 

''It wasn't only some stranger from across the world on Skype, was it?'' 

Alex stays silent. 

John grabs the almost empty glass he was once drinking happily, minutes ago, and throws it at the wall behind Alex, mouth wide open in a silent gasp, and Alex curls onto himself, holds on to his own body like it'll break into a million pieces if he doesn't. 

The laughter from the living room dies down. 

''Who?'' John asks, and Alex just starts shaking his head from side to side, because he can't, he can't say. It'll break the both of them. 

John's not having any of it, though. He walks to him, grabs his shoulders and asks again, asks louder, asks again. He starts sobbing then, ugly and heart wrecking, and so Alex doesn't stop his own tears when he finally manages to say something.

''John, that won't help, I...'' 

''Fuck you,'' John spits out, harsh. Alex has never seen him red with anger before. ''Fuck you, Alexander.'' 

It's the last thing John says before he walks out, door banging shut, shaking Alexander's entire body with it. 

He falls to the floor, he can't breathe, he's drowning, everything's crowding over him. He can't get his lungs to work correctly. 

Eliza's the first one to crouch down at his side. 

She's also the first one who's look on him changes, when she eventually gets the pieces together and understands what just happened.

She walks out the door almost immediately, probably running after John.  

-

After that the world stops spinning. No one really talks to him for a while, and Alex is somehow grateful for it, even if loneliness' seeds soak deeper into his pores each day. He's used to it, though, so he throws himself into becoming Carl, the lit teacher, forgets everything when he works and gets back to being Alexander, the disaster, right after. 

He knew it was coming. He knew he shouldn't even have brought John with him to Martha's party that night, because Alex was a weak man and John was sweet and so obvious in his advances that he just couldn't say no. He'd thought that hey, maybe just this one time, he could get this one thing and get it right. Apparently not. 

Break ups are hard but it's not like he's thinking about John's smile in the shower or can't fall asleep without him. He admits it at last, that he was never truly in love with him. And even though that's no excuse, he confesses that to Eliza, one night, and she tells him that John's going to be fine, eventually, even though they both know he won't. Not soon enough. 

Nobody asks him about it. Laf, usually the curious one, doesn't even ask once, who Alex was cheating on John with. And it's fine, it's better that way. Alex doesn't even know if he could say. 

They all don't really hang out anymore. 

-

There's a pattern. Alexander knows it, as soon as he lets his knuckles connect with the door.  

Jefferson's been back for a couple of weeks, the man had texted him an American flag right after landing. Alex hadn't answered, had just bit into his pillow and tried to will his body to stop shaking. He didn't need Thomas. The guy was awful, just a dark pit of messy, messy stuff that wasn't healthy for him. The reason why his whole life had been pulled apart.  

So he'd resisted. And he'd been good. 

Right until he'd passed John on the street, on his way to work. Alexander was on his bike, faster than most, and John passed like a blur on the side but it was still _John_ , and the man had stopped right there on the sidewalk when he'd recognized Alex. They hadn't spoken in two months. They didn't there, either. But his face was enough of a reminder to break every bit of improvement Alex had managed to do. 

So there he was. Standing on Jefferson's doorstep, hands shaking with want and shame and emotions he couldn't quite put his finger on.

He couldn't really tell what Thomas was thinking when he opened the door. 

-

Alex knew what he was doing, which strings he was pulling. So when Thomas asks him to kneel on the carpet, he does, but he doesn't join his hands behind his back. He lays them flat on his thighs, watches when Jefferson's eyelids flicker and smiles when the other man asks ''Oh, so that's how you want to play it?'' 

Alex doesn't want to have to ask for it, but he knows what he wants, so he lets Thomas put his dick in his mouth, but uses just enough teeth that it has to be slightly uncomfortable, presses his tongue against the bottom of his mouth. Thomas is getting more and more frustrated by the second, and when he asks him to get up and Alex doesn't move a finger, he snaps.

''I could _hit_ you right now, Alexander.'' And Thomas means it as a halfhearted menace, not like he's actually thinking of doing it, but Alex straight up moans, head tilted towards the ceiling in a silent, filthy prayer. That's finally when Jefferson gets the hint. 

It's a moment of silence that convinces Alex to open his eyes, to try and figure out Thomas' reaction. It's unreadable, and so Alex regrets, thinks _Fuck_ , he gave too much of himself away, he freaked him out, he did everything wrong. 

''You don't... you don't have to,'' He tries, stutters. ''I just, I want-'' 

The first hit is like absolution. 

''Shut up,'' Thomas scolds, palm red where it just connected with Alexander's face. He doesn't know what he's feeling. Pain, arousal, satisfaction. It should all feel so wrong, but it's right. It's so right, he doesn't know where the tears falling on his cheeks come from. 

''Thomas, please, I need you to,'' He's crying, knows he is, prays that it doesn't stop Jefferson. ''Fuck me.'' 

''Alexander, what...'' He doesn't seem to be able to find words. He's looking at his own hand like it doesn't belong to him. ''Please, Alex, get up.'' 

Alex listens, gets up on weak legs, shivering even though he's still fully dressed. Thomas' eyes are wide and scared, but his touch his gentle when he undresses Alex, lays him on the soft mattress of the bed, pushes him on his side. He softly whispers ' _Okay, okay, okay_ ' when Alex won't stop rambling, won't stop asking. Thomas has never taken this much time for prep, but right now he's patient when he lifts Alex's leg up in the air with one strong arm and presses a lubed finger against him, rotates it in tight circles before finally caving in, and then it's more lube, and it's two fingers, and when he gets to three Alex is louder, begging for it like he never did before. 

Jefferson doesn't speak but Alex knows he wants to ask. He's grateful he doesn't. 

When Thomas finally pushes himself in, it's slow, but it's far from painful. There's no usual slight burn, and that's not what Alex was begging for but it's good, it's good. 

''Please,'' he says anyways, tears wetting the corners of his mouth. For some reason, Thomas knows exactly what he wants, so he slides one arm under him and presses a hard hand against his chest, bringing them closer together, before slowly grabbing Alex's dick with his right hand. They're both sweating by the time Thomas starts thrusting. 

Alex's body is melting, weak and broken, but he still pushes himself back against Jefferson with every thrust. It's not fast, but it's dragged in and out, making Alex feel every inch.

It's new, and it's not exactly what usually makes Alexander's blood boil but it's good enough that he comes before he knows it. He isn't even aware if Thomas does too. 

He just falls asleep. 

- 

He wakes up in the middle of the night, soft sheets enveloping him, blanket heavy on his body. He's staring at a blank wall, shadows from the moonlight dancing on its surface. His cheek is still slightly buzzing, probably warm and a tiny bit red where Thomas slapped him. It's not an entirely bad sensation. 

He turns his head, confused when he realizes he's alone in the bed. Apparently Thomas left him the bedroom to himself. Which is... oddly nice. 

There's a fancy alarm clock (Alexander didn't even know fancy alarm clocks were a thing), a weird, straight up block of wood with the time on it. Tells him it's two in the morning. 

He has no idea what to do. He never thought he'd ever end up here in a million years, feeling strangely safe in Jefferson's bed and wearing one of his t shirts. This wasn't a thing they did. Jefferson was nothing more than sex, a hot cock on two long legs, soft hair and big lips. That was it.

Alex knocked on the door wanting to be wrecked and feel like it. Instead he found himself in a warm bed at two in the morning, feeling much more better than what he actually deserved. This was all wrong. So, fucking, honestly wrong.

Maybe he should have knocked on John's door, instead. He probably would have been punched good.

- 

He tried to fall back asleep but failed, ends up in the bathroom splashing water on his face. Thomas had left him naked from the waist down, and he's feeling _gross_ , still wet and sticky between his legs.

There's a knock on the door.

''Alexander?''  

''No,'' he answers, to show he's alive but doesn't actually want to talk. Jefferson can understand that. Jefferson doesn't actually care. Jefferson's gonna go back to drinking wine with the french, he's gonna find himself another big role, make some more money he doesn't need and break hearts in Australia, probably. It's fine. 

''Alexander, please let me in.'' And Alex just repeats the simple word, softly. 

He sits on the edge of the bath, cringes at the coldness, looks at the mirror reflecting his face in front of him. He doesn't even recognize what he sees, some drops of water still making their way down on his forehead.

''Can I take a shower?'' He wonders out loud, and Thomas' answer is hurried.

''Yes, yes, of course, go ahead.''  

So he does. The water pressure is just right, big change from the shitty spray he's got back home. He cleans himself up the best he can, and he finally starts feeling more like himself once he's done and the mirror is all fogged up. 

It takes him a while to find a towel, and so once he does the droplets of water from his soaked hair are cold on his naked skin.  

He realizes with a sigh of relief that Thomas is not waiting for him in the bedroom, but that there is a fresh change of clothes waiting for him on the bed. 

He puts his own back on. 

-

He steps into the living room, fondling with his hands and raising his eyebrows when Thomas immediately gets up from his spot on the sofa and stands in front of him.

''You're leaving?'' He sounds surprised. ''Alexander, it's almost three in the morning. You can leave tomorrow.''

Alex doesn't say anything, just looks at the door and back at Thomas, as if the answer magically lays there somewhere.

Thomas sighs, tries something else.

''Look, I know you think I'm an asshole, and yeah, God knows I can be. But I'm not kicking you out in the middle of the night after... after what happened.''

Alex snaps,

''Look, what happened tonight? You shouldn't have let me in unless you were planning on pulling through.''

Thomas seems to stop breathing.

''What?''

He's harsh, harsher than he needs to be, especially since Thomas is standing there in front of him looking genuinely concerned, small crease in between his eyebrows and hands buried deep in the pockets of his sweatpants. But he can't help it. 

''I don't knock on your door for comfort and hugs. I thought you knew that. And while I have to say thanks for letting me use your shower and all, I don't want to stay here any longer. Will you let me leave, now, please?'' 

The words don't even sound like they could ever come from him, but Alex accepts them as his own when he turns around to walk out the door. What's done is done. 

''Why do you persist on hating me?'' 

His feet stop, the room spins. 

He takes a moment before he says, 

''When we were working together, you had an intern be there to offer you their hand every time you had a gum to spit out.'' That seems a good enough explication. Even though they might fit in bed, they didn't _fit_. Alex had made his peace with that as soon as he'd dropped on his knees that first time, which seemed so long ago, now.

''Yeah, and you, Alexander?'' Jefferson doesn't look small and concerned anymore. ''You were constantly complaining, always had something to say about everything, could never just simply _shut up_. And while I might be really out there and "arrogant", as you like to say, I'm not a hypocrite. I know who I am, unlike you.''   

Alexander's seriously considering storming off the door when Thomas, tension leaving his shoulders like he's defeated, adds,

''But I don't hate you, Alex. If I did I would just have left you crying on my carpet.''

He's got a hand on the door handle when he ends the conversation with,

''Maybe you should have.'' 

**Author's Note:**

> How did this get so angsty?  
> You have permission to yell at me
> 
> find me on tumblr; featdean


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